


Matters of Certain Importance

by Innin



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Light Bondage, Multi, Submission, Threesome - F/F/M, Voyeurism, f/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 21:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21288479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innin/pseuds/Innin
Summary: The marriage of Nerdanel and Fëanáro is a broken thing. Indis attempts to fix it.
Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel, Fëanor/Indis/Nerdanel, Indis/Nerdanel (Tolkien)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14
Collections: Femdom Exchange 2019





	Matters of Certain Importance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Filigranka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/gifts).

Indis had summoned her. 

It wasn't unusual per se - Nerdanel met with her often, finding Indis something of a kindred spirit to talk with and discuss the finer points of philosophy and the Elves' relations to the Valar. She was congenial, friendly, sweet and warm. 

More than that, Indis took care of her when Nerdanel asked for it, and sometimes when Indis herself thought it necessary. Evidently that was the case this time - the message had come by courier, who had rattled off the message dispassionately standing at the kitchen door while Maitimo minded the squirming twins in the background. Even though he heard, did not pay it any special mind; it was that innocuous. 

Nerdanel, though, knew Indis well, and she could hear the timbre of the queen's words as she would speak them private when they had retired to Indis' solitary bedchamber. 

They made Nerdanel shiver. 

_Indis Queen of the Noldor requests your private attendance this day at the Second Mingling for matters of certain importance._

"Is this about Father's recent behaviour?" Maitimo asked when the courier had come and gone, and he tried to shush Umbarto, who had begun squirming on his lap and making a grab for his braid. 

Nerdanel had always been able to communicate effortlessly with her eldest. He was a perfect blend between both of his parents, Fëanáro's sharp beauty tempered by her family's milder looks, and her own gentler temper and mindset honed to keenness by Fëanáro's fiery mind and soul. But that day she found she couldn't answer him honestly, closing her mind to his inquisitiveness. 

"Perhaps," she replied, evasive, in words rather than _osanwë_, and saw his face fall at her obvious secrecy. Much like her, Maitimo could not abide his father's recent unrest well, public speeches that were instigating a growing faction of the people of Tirion against both royalty and Valar in favour of supposed freedom under a rule of his own making. Nerdanel knew all eyes were on her husband, and it hurt her to her core how he shone and gloried in the role. 

It had made her consider leaving him. She had not yet spoken to her sons about it, but even so, keeping secrets from her son made it no easier on Maitimo. And even if Fëanáro was, in a way, at the core of the summons, Nerdanel did not think it deserved elaboration. It was private. 

As private as her life with Fëanáro had been, and that was enough to send her mind down another path, thinking of what had transpired in the privacy of their home, at times even the forge. 

Fëanáro tied and on his knees, throat working against the wooden cock she wore strapped on, leaving his lips swollen and red as the thing slipped in and out, a string of saliva from his mouth to its tip when she withdrew, keeping a hand in his glorious, raven-black hair, his eyes more piercingly bright than usual in pleasure while she teased the rim of his hole, fingertips first, then knuckle-deep, stroking him from within until Fëanáro's self-possession left him and he begged for her. 

Only then she'd fuck him, push him to the edge of release, and withdraw while he came nearly undone with the need to touch and be touched. This kind of needy, with sweat beading on his upper lip, was the most beautiful she had ever seen him. It made her want to create a statue of him in a moment like that, debauched and only for herself to admire, perhaps for him to see what she saw. 

"Look at me," she'd say, taking her sweet time removing the straps, a touch of roughness in her voice - as much as she could still muster at that point, herself near undoing from his beauty in this state - trace up his throat with her fingernails leaving red marks over the sensitive skin, and tip his chin up so he'd see her tower over him. 

She'd kneel over his face and make him bring her to release first, applying lips and tongue until her knees gave, and she let herself sag onto him, stifling sounds that surely, surely, her sons would even hear in the house. 

She'd spoon up to him after, feeling his cock still hard against her stomach, move teasingly against him in the after-thrum of pleasure, praise him, call him her sweet, obedient toy. When her heartbeat had settled, she'd kiss him, tasting herself over his lips, face, chin. 

Then she'd take him into her, kneeling on his lap and riding him until she found her release again. Only then, sensing him poised on the brink of his own abyss once more, she'd allow him the plunge. 

But that had been a long time ago - long-years now - and growing embarrassingly wet merely from remembering brought it no closer to the present. If Fëanáro's people knew that once she had been able to temper his fire this way and he had readily consented, how would they view them? If it hadn't meant exposing herself as much as him, she might have told it all. 

Indis knew, of course. And did to her as Nerdanel had done to Fëanáro, at first merely to understand, and then for almost the same purpose, a shelter and haven and much-needed release that absolved her of the need for control on herself in those strained days - boneless, trusting and tired after. 

Indis let her breathe. Indis let her sleep.

She had shed the guilt long ago. Of course she would attend to Indis' every beck and call. 

Perhaps Indis knew what to do and say so she would not leave Fëanáro. 

She gave Maitimo a half-smile - more she could not muster - and left the kitchen to prepare for the visit. 

* * *

While Nerdanel bathed and readied herself for the assault on her body that Indis had no doubt planned, her thrill at being summoned grew. She needed this, had needed it for a while without realizing just how strung-up she had become.

Fëanáro would no doubt be jealous - he had raged the first time one such summons by Indis had come to their house, out of dislike for his step-mother more than suspicion of the motive behind the summons, but he had since learned of the exact nature of their affair, and it had borne out in an atypical, frozen coldness toward both Indis and herself. 

He was at the palace now, in discussion with his father, Nerdanel remembered as she sponged away sweat and stone-dust that had settled between her breasts from that day's work. She hoped that she would not cross paths with him inadvertently - no doubt it would raise awkward questions or more anger - but instead of dwelling on the thought she inspected herself in the blurry mirror of the bathwater, frowning as she did: Her body was no longer quite as forgiving as it used to be before her children, and she wondered how far Indis would be able to push her before her resistance faltered. 

She reached down into the warm water, sliding the palm of her hand against herself, teasing only, the pad of her thumb over her clit. It still made her gasp, made heat shoot up into her face. 

_Ah._ She took a deep breath to steady herself.

Not long, then. Unless Indis paced herself, but she could be voracious and demanding both, a combination that did aught to make Nerdanel appreciate her all the more. The sessions were about both their pleasure, but Indis' summons spoke to her own need foremost this time, and Nerdanel's submission contingent on it. 

That, too, could be thrilling. And Nerdanel had a feeling that she might yet be surprised. 

She finished her ablutions until she was clean within and without, washed her hair, and braided it into a thick, practical rope that would not get in the way of their games later. 

She was less practical about her smallclothes, choosing delicately embroidered things that were little more than nothing against her skin, and laced herself into an elegant gown in fox-fur red matching her hair and befitting a royal function more than a private appointment, but it would take Indis time to undo the bindings, and heighten both their expectations. 

*

It was not far from the house to the palace, and Nerdanel chose to walk. Fëanáro had insisted that they do not dwell under one roof with the usurper of his father's love, as his moniker for Indis had been at that point. So a small estate had been built for the two of them not far away on a level stretch of Túna's western slope near the main market: The main house, studios, gardens and a forge. It had only been occupied half the time once, when they were not living in the countryside with Nerdanel's father for one of his and Fëanáro's frequent collaborations, or, erstwhile, their shared collaborations with Aulë, whose halls weren't far from Mahtan's holdings. 

They had moved into the city when Fëanáro's tensions with the rest of his family heightened, and he feared to lose his influence both at court and with his father, while Mahtan, he said, could be counted on to welcome him with open arms unless he broke with Nerdanel, something that he had not been planning on then. 

Nor was now, she thought, although the thought of leaving him had kept burrowed into Nerdanel's mind every so often since their relations had cooled and Fëanáro's temper had heated.

She wondered if there was a way to salvage their marriage. Certainly their bond would persist, but nothing forced them to cohabit or even to be faithful, even if it might come to pain them at last. Perhaps time and distance would be a healer for them, if Fëanáro's hate eventually cooled. Perhaps Nolofinwë and he would come to some understanding. 

Perhaps Fëanáro would warm toward Indis. 

No certainties there. As long as that was the case, Nerdanel would seek her solace elsewhere, and if it drove them apart, she was almost ready to accede to that. The fault lay in his railing against the Valar as much as in her need for release.   
That would not exist without his behaviour in the first place.

It was not revenge, she knew as much in her heart of hearts - she had never been vindictive in this fashion. At its core, her actions came spurred by self-interest and indeed, the notion of lust that many scholars accredited the Eldar as no longer having. Lust was a primal thing out of the dark forests of Cuiviénen under the stars, not a thing of the Light of the Two Trees, they claimed. 

She remembered laughing about it, lying naked and light-soaked in their marriage bed while Fëanáro, also naked, lay beside her and wrote, claiming that their lovemaking just before, then still young and inexperienced in comparison to their later debaucheries, deserved to be the subject of a scathing reply to said scholars: They had obviously never been married. 

She almost choked on a laugh, climbing the stairs to the palace and entered as the sky began to shimmer with the softer, blended light of the Mingling, a beautiful silver-gold before Telperion's hours began. It felt like a sharp statement, an exclamation point at the end of a row of tengwar, that Indis, too, had summoned her at this hour. 

(The symbolism of it hadn't escaped Fëanáro either, but he kept his peace about that, so far. She didn't know whether he loathed or condoned this part of the arrangement. Lust only, surely was better than the betrayal being founded in both lust and love?) 

Was that regret stirring briefly in her chest, as she entered the corridor to Indis' private quarters? 

Would she want it to be something more than lust even if it hurt Fëanáro? That still hung between the two of them, leaving the air heavy with it whenever they were in the same room, but he no longer acted on it. There were none of the unthinking gestures of tenderness he'd once shown her, and Nerdanel in turn kept her impulses in check as well, unwilling to be the first one to enter into a truce that would never come to pass on her terms. 

She did not love Indis the way she might love a husband - or a wife. There was deep gratitude there, and love of a different kind. Indis had been the first to show her that a woman's body was as much of a marvel to explore as a man's was - something Nerdanel had long suspected, washing with her parents' female apprentices after work in her youth, and stealing glances at the curves of their breasts, the dusting of hair between their legs, the curve of their throats as they tilted their dark heads back to rinse out their hair. 

She had never acted on it, until Indis had come along, but now that she raised a hand to knock on Indis' chamber door, she had grown wet again, and she _wanted_ \- wanted Indis' mouth on her, wanted to bury her head between Indis' legs and fill her mouth with Indis' taste. 

The door swung inward, and Nerdanel followed into an ante-room to the dimly-lit chambers behind another door, this one open with a view of the bed. Indis liked it dim when she had Nerdanel there, the heavy gold-brocade curtains drawn, not to mention that she was fond of using candles rather than Fëanárian lamps, for the added benefit of a flame licking along skin, wax dribbling onto sensitive parts of Nerdanel's body.

But when Nerdanel entered, the light wasn't the fitful candlelight flicker she knew; it was the steady glow of her husband's crystals, set into niches in the wall carved out for them, at the head of her bed. 

It gave her pause - what did Indis have planned? A tribute to Fëanáro for… reasons she could not imagine? Still confused, Nerdanel cast around for Indis' tall and slender figure, so often dressed in white and gold, usually waiting to greet her.

Instead, her breath caught at the sight that the chambers presented. 

Indis stepped into view in the open door, beckoning - not to Nerdanel, as she first thought, taking a step forward, but to someone out of Nerdanel's view for a moment - until Fëanáro walked into view, naked, with his hair pooling in dark waves down his back, the light of his lamps making his skin glow, picking out the muscles in his legs as he moved, the light playing along his sweat-soaked chest, his upper arms, held at an unnatural angle.

Coming to stand before Indis, he knelt in one rough motion, the length of his hair half-hiding him. 

Kneeling with his arms tied behind his back in Indis' telltale ropework that was art as much as function, he waited for another command, flushed in what Nerdanel knew to be humiliation, but his erection was rising against his belly, while Indis stroked his cheek, half a smirk on her face. There wasn't much tenderness in the gesture - it was a mockery if it was anything. 

Fëanáro knew it, also, and yet could not help his body reacting. Nerdanel knew - she knew him intimately, knew the way he strained against his want, knew that he was holding on to pride and composure as though his life depended on it. 

How he had come into such a position, or consented to it to begin with - how Indis had put this plan into motion, how… the questions quieted when Indis also knelt. She did with the fluidity of a flower bending in the wind, fully dressed in her usual white and gold, and dipped her head gracefully. 

The light made her, too, shimmer, as she moved to brush her open mouth against Fëanáro's cock. Her hair, the lush curls open and unbound, pooled with his on the floor when her lips closed around Fëanáro's tip and he groaned, cheekbones protruding sharply as he tried to keep the noise in, not betray weakness or pleasure. There was no love lost between them from his side, she was certain. 

_How?_

She could not help but stare. How had Indis gotten Fëanáro this far, how made him join her, in _this_ of all things? A confusion of feelings sped through her - part jealousy part demand for an explanation, part… thrill. She stood transfixed. 

False premises? A wager? An insult to Fëanáro's honour, perhaps, that would have spurred him into some foolhardy situation like this? An excess of drink, or perhaps substances that Indis might have come by? 

She could not tell, couldn't look away either. The longer she watched, the longer the slow bobbing of Indis' head went on, the light caught in the snares of hair, the more sweat beaded Fëanáro's temples, the less Nerdanel required an explanation right away, content to watch, finding herself licking her lips in expectation when Indis' head dipped again, when Fëanáro's mouth opened in a quiet gasp. 

Making her watch, leaving Nerdanel hoping she would be called to join, was that, also, part of Indis' game?

Neither of them seemed to have noticed her, caught up as they were, but she would have sworn that Indis, at least, knew all too well what she was doing. Nerdanel felt herself flush, both with the warmth of the chambers, and the sight before her, heat pooling low in her stomach with the demand to be heeded and tended to. As if Indis had sensed her need, she lifted her head just slightly, never breaking contact with Fëanáro's cock. Her eyes spoke volumes - wicked amusement, delight, and most of all...

… invitation. 

Nerdanel smiled, crossed the anteroom, and went to join the game.

when Fëanáro cast around for the intruder, and she came up behind him, the smooth fabric of her dress against his back, fisting one hand in his hair and pulling his head back to see her standing over him. 

His face - so tense and determined while Indis had worked him, transformed into a mixture of gratitude and confusion seeing her. The stirring in her belly in answer was more than lust - the brightness of his eyes, the flicker of… love… she'd seen there, eclipsed again with the next blink - roused something else in her, warm and long-thought lost. 

Hope. Healing. 

She only needed to draw his emotions forth again, and she knew how. With Indis' help, both of them keeping him under control, and Indis directing her, perhaps there would even be more to this encounter. 

It would be a long evening. 

She intended to make it that.


End file.
